“Whereabouts is it now?” demanded he. “Are you sure Mallory can’t get it?”
“Dead sure,” laughed Bull. “Do you suppose I’d be fool enough to let Mallory sneak up behind me twice. Not much! It’s safe.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Oh, it’s buried up here in the woods a piece,” said the other, cautiously. “It’s where we can get it any time we want to. Oh, say, but it’s fine to know you’re rich—no trouble about paying any confounded bills. And that Irish villain Jake can’t kick because we drink more than we can pay for. Whoop! Help yourselves!”
The others were helping themselves for all they were worth. It seldom happened to that crowd to get a chance such as this, and cadet duties might go to blazes in the meantime. They were singing and shouting and fast getting themselves into a very delightful state, indeed, keenly enjoying themselves every minute of the time, so they thought.
Fun like that can’t last very long, however. Baby Edwards went to sleep as I said! it is to be hoped he dreamed of better things. Merry Vance got quiet and stupid also, while Gus Murray waxed cross and ugly. So pretty soon Bull concluded it was time to go home. Anybody who glanced at the bottles scattered about on the floor and table would have thought so too.
At this stage of the game Jake bowed himself in. Jake was usually a Nemesis, an undesired person altogether, for he came to collect. But Bull didn’t mind this time.
“I wants me money,” began the man, surlily, gazing about him at the scene of destruction. “An’ what’s more, I wants to say you fellows has got to make less noise here nights. I ain’t goin’ to have my license taken away for no cadet. See?”
Bull gazed at him sneeringly during this discourse.
“Anything more?” he demanded.